


A Scandal in Hogwarts

by neytah



Series: Fanfics I wrote at Summer Camp [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 4th years, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Chamber of Secrets, Hufflepuff John, M/M, Potterlock, Ravenclaw Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-29
Updated: 2013-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-25 01:26:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/946984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neytah/pseuds/neytah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John dislikes Sherlock from the moment they meet, but fate, as well as a string of petrifyings and a basilisk on the loose bring them together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Scandal in Hogwarts

**Author's Note:**

> For Mel.  
> Apologies for any grammatical and spelling errors. Also, if there are inaccuracies in regards to the Harry Potter world, let me know and i will try to fix them

Surprisingly, John and Sherlock didn’t meet until their fourth year. John had always been shy. He secluded himself, aside from a few close friends, and rarely ventured outside Hufflepuff. Sherlock, quite differently, didn’t have any friends. Anyone who’d ever had a class with him knew him as the snarky know-it-all, the obnoxious younger brother of Hufflepuff head boy.

But, Sherlock and John had never had class together, so they were oblivious to each other’s existence.

It was early in the year John could tell Molly was hiding something. He and Molly had become study buddies first year, and were now best friends. So when Molly started wistfully staring off into the distance during study sessions and nearly melting a cauldron in Potions class, he knew something was up.

He figured it was just a personal ‘girl’ thing. If she wanted to tell him, she would. But when she started seeing a tutor for Trans, he his suspicion boiled over. He asked, and she spilled. This was the first time John had heard of Sherlock Holmes.

After Molly’s lack of interest in romance for their first three years, John was quite taken aback by her sudden investment in Sherlock. But John already didn’t like him. He hated how Molly had been dumbing herself down and being so self-deprecating, which he blamed on Sherlock’s presence. He tried his best to talk sense into her, but she was unwavered. John was prepared to stage an intervention when the school got turned upside-down.

John watches in shock as Filch cries over his petrified cat, the proffessors struggling to contain the students.

“There are only seven known creatures that cause petrification. Only 2 are native to the UK.”

This is the first time John actually meets Sherlock. He already hates him.

The unfortunate event shifts Molly’s demeanor. Instead of her infatuated oblivious state, she becomes quiet and timid.

“You’re lucky.” Molly says. “You’re not a muggle born.”

“Hey, I’m a halfblood. If I remember correctly, Salazar Slytherin hates me too.”

Molly still talks about Sherlock sometimes, but she’s mostly quiet, her blood status weighing on her mind. He hopes the entire thing will blow over soon. He lets it remain in the back of his mind, and focuses on his schoolwork.

***

His hearts drops when he hears Molly’s been petrified. He’d been telling her not to worry, that everything would be fine, and now she’s frozen.

John’s one of the first to know. He rushes to the infirmary, but finds someone already at her bedside. He grits his teeth. Sherlock Holmes.

He sits down, anger beginning to rise.

“What are you doing here?” John says.

“Regardless of what you think, Watson, I do care about Molly.”

“Don’t call me Watson.”

“Oh, would you rather short opinionated hedgehog? Are you going to sit here and glare at me or are we going to get past whatever childish reason you dislike me and try to save our mutual friend and stop these petrifyings from happening again?”

John still hates Sherlock. But, as much as he hates to admit it, Sherlock is right. Arguing wouldn’t bring Molly out of her slumber. An as snarky and irritating as Sherlock is, he’s smart. As much as John dislikes him, he’ll work with him. For Molly.

“So, smartass, what’d’ya think is it is?”

“Probably a basilisk.”

“Have you told a professor?”

Sherlock snorts.

“Like they’d listen to a forth year. I don’t waste my time. And it’s not like they can do anything about it until someone finds the Chamber of Secrets.”

“You believe in the Chamber of Secrets?”

“No, I think this whole fiasco is an elaborate prank done by some power-crazy Slytherins.” Sherlock says sarcastically. John rolls his eyes.

“We got any ideas where the chamber is then? Or perhaps, how to kill the basilisk when we get there?”

“Killing the beast is impractical. Find the snake whisperer, quell the beast.”

“What?”

“I thought you were the walking encyclopedia, Watson. The chamber doesn’t just open by itself.”

“Then who do you think is doing this?”

“It could be anyone. It could be you.”

“It could be you too.” John says. He gives Molly’s hand a squeeze, and leaves.

***

John is woken in the middle of the night. He opens his eyes to see a fuzzy outline of a person, whom he soon identifies as Sherlock. He nearly jumps out of his skin.

“What are you doing here? You’re a Ravenclaw, you can’t get in here!”

Sherlock rolls his eyes.

“I’m not stupid, Watson. It’s not that hard to get past the Hufflepuff portrait.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to have a chat with Professor Flitwick about the security system of Hufflepuff house.”

“Do you really think I would be here if it wasn’t important?”

“No, but I do strongly question your ability to judge what’s important and what’s not. For example, a regular sleep schedule—”

“Just come with me.”

“Why? Why should I come with you?”

Sherlock sighs.

“Because you want to fix this as much as I do. For Molly, for the school, for yourself. And you’re not gonna do that by lying around fulfilling your ‘regular sleep schedule’, dreaming about cupcakes and rainbows.”

***

Reluctantly, John follows Sherlock. He’s never been out of the dorm after hours before, so he tiptoes along quietly as Sherlock strides nonchalantly in front of him.

“Where are we going?” John asks.

“I found the Chamber of Secrets.”

“And we’re going there? Are you crazy? That thing will kill us!”

 “Do you really think I’m that stupid, Watson? With a spell, I will tranquilize the beast, for a few minutes.” He reaches into his pocket. “You, Watson, will take this poison, and put it in the snake’s eye. We knock it out, then kill it. Are you following, or are you still thinking about your sleep schedule?”

John gives in to his month-long urge and kicks him in the shin.

“If you’re so smart, why don’t you do it all yourself, smarty-pants?”

“You’re backup.”

“Are you-”

Sherlock slams his hand against John’s mouth and drags him behind a gargoyle. Soon, John hears the footsteps of a patroller, and Sherlock waits until the footsteps are in the distance before removing his hand from John’s mouth.

“Do you have no control over your volume?” Sherlock says through gritted teeth. For once, John doesn’t know how to respond.

***

“So,” John says later, “Is the Chamber of Secrets in the Slytherin dorm?”

“As if Salazar Slytherin would be so stupid.”

“Then why are we at the Slytherin portrait?”

Sherlock sighs.

“Do you ever stop asking questions?”

“You may be leading me to my death; I think I’m entitled to a few questions.”

Another sigh. Sherlock gives his wand a swirly wave, and John watches a wisp of blue light travel through the portrait to the common room beyond. Before John can ask, the portrait opens, and out walks a smirking brunette.

“”You’re late. I almost went to bed.” She says.

“I got held up.” Sherlock says.

She looks at John.

“I thought we were gonna be alone.” She says, winking.

“I need someone I can trust.”

“So you pick _him_?”

“I _am_ standing right here, you know.”

Sherlock glances back at John.

“Irene, John Watson. Watson, Irene Adler.” Irene smiles and waves. John just stands there awkwardly.

“Shall we get going?”

***

Even though it’s abandoned, John still feels uncomfortable being in a girls bathroom. After a accidentally walking into one first year, he has good reason to be jumpy (he was in the infirmary for a few days until the hexes wore off). After tiptoeing past a sleeping Moaning Myrtle, John, Sherlock, and Irene stand in front of the sinks.

“Whenever you’re ready, Irene.” Sherlock says.

“You better keep you end of the deal, Holmes,” she says in an icy tone, before stepping in front of one of the sinks. She begins to speak in a language John has never heard before, and as she does, the sink structure begins to move, and the sink morphs into an opening.

“H-how did you do that?”

“Parseltongue. Sexy, right?” She says, winking.

“When you’re done flirting with the gay boy, we can get going.”

“Um, I’m not gay.” (Sherlock ignores him.)

“Irene, if you wish.” Sherlock says, gesturing towards the entrance. She walks to the opening before turning back to the boys.

“See you on the other side.” She says, smirking before falling backwards without hesitance. Sherlock turns to John.

“You coming?”

John isn’t sure why he follows Sherlock into the pit of doom. There are several occasions where he almost pees his pants, specifically the _giant snake skin_. The lack of reaction of his companions is even more unnerving. Basically, he’s pretty sure he’s going to die in here.

Irene, John, and Sherlock arrive at the snake-bound door. John is starting to develop a (ir)rational fear of snakes. Again, Irene speaks in parseltongue and the snakes move to let them enter. But before Irene can step forward, Sherlock mumbles something under his breath, and Irene falls, unconscious, into his arms.

“What the hell did you do to her?”

“Verbally activated charm. She’ll wake up in a few hours.”

“Don’t we need her to talk to the snake?”

“Can’t trust her. For all I know, she could tell the snake to kill us slowly and painfully.”

“Like that’s any better than where we’re at now?!”

“We should go.”

“Why should I? I don’t trust you!”

“John, if you didn’t trust me, you wouldn’t be here right now. So you can either come with me, or you can stay here and wait for Irene to wake up. And believe me, her wrath is much worse than whatever’s inside that chamber.”

***

Nope. This was a bad idea. He should’ve stayed with Irene. As soon as John and Sherlock had entered, the snake, awakened by the intrusion to his home, slithered out of its hiding place. Imagine the giant snake statue in the Slytherin common room—except ten times bigger. Sherlock casts the tranquilizing spell, and the snake begins to flail, slowly losing consciousness.

Now, John watches in horror as the basilisk’s body crashes into the side of the chamber, shattering a stone and sending an avalanche of rubble towards Sherlock. It’s practically slow motion as Sherlock and John’s eyes meet, and John hears one last word before Sherlock is covered in stone fragments. _John_.

After that, it’s a bit of a haze. John remembers stumbling over to the unconscious snake, and putting the poison down its eye. Then he turns back to the pile of rocks, desperate to get to Sherlock. Then it goes black.

***

John wakes to a while ceiling and soft sheets. He looks to his left, and his heart leaps: a battered and bandaged, but still breathing Sherlock.

“You better have killed that basilisk or I will murder you.”

John grins.

“Nice to see you too.”

“Glad I’m alive to see you.”

“How’d we get out?”

“Irene woke up. Drew mustaches on our faces before calling for help.”

“I’m glad you’re alive.”

“Glad I’m alive, too. Awful place to die, down there.”

“You’d die a hero.” He chuckles. 

“Spare me. Leave heroism to the Gryffindors.”

John chuckles.

We’ll have quite a story to tell when Molly wakes up.”

***

It’s not until later a question occurs to John. He’s been released from the infirmary with minor injuries, but he still spends most of his time there, with Sherlock and still-petrified Molly.

“Why did we go after the basilisk?” John asks. “You said we’d be better off dealing with the person controlling it.”

Sherlock sighs.

“My idiot brother was being controlled by a spirit. Mum would kill me if anything happened to her precious son.”

“You almost got killed.”

“No one would miss me.”

“Molly’d miss you.”

John pauses.

“I’d miss you.”

Sherlock smiles.

“Yes. Amazing what sharing a near death experience can do to two people.”

Yes. Shock from a near death experience. That’s how John rationalizes it.

When John presses his lips against Sherlock, he freezes. John pulls back.

“Sorry, I-”

Sherlock uses his still bandaged hand to pull John back.

It’s quite a surprising scene for Nurse Hudson to walk in on.


End file.
